Something of her father's elation disappeared in a sigh. "Promising, yes!--but so far only promising. Oil has been struck all about us, but none as yet on our holdings. I have by no means given up hope, of course." (Richard Darcy had never given up hope in any of his lost causes.) "But I must confess that I have been disappointed. Worse than disappointed. For a while I was--well, really, desperate!" He smiled deprecatingly. The smile did not for the moment touch Joan's heart; but it told her the truth she had dreaded. "Father! You mean you have _lost_ the money?--There's no income left?" "Income? Alas, no. And even the principal--Still, the land is there, one thousand acres of it, and that cannot escape!" he added, brightening. "There were times when I thought of going to live on the land. Though my experience of agriculture has been practically nil, many of our ancestors were planters and stock-breeders, and, as you know, I am a firm believer in the power of heredity. However, I was credibly informed that the property would not lend itself to agriculture. I was at my wit's end. Fancy the position!" (The Major was beginning rather to enjoy his woe in the retrospect.) "Here was I not as yet firmly established on my feet (as we say in business parlance); deprived alike of helpmate and companion, with my child at an expensive boarding-school where I had promised my dead wife she should remain until the completion of her education--and I without a dollar I could call my own! Frightful! There were certain obligations to tradespeople as well.... I am sure I do not know how for a while Ellen Neal managed to provide us with necessities!" (Joan thought grimly that she knew how.) "It became necessary to--ah!--realize on my possessions. First the silver went--I daresay you have wondered what has become of our family silver, my child? It was sacrificed to keep a roof over your head. Then the more valuable pieces of furniture--" "Oh, don't!" groaned the girl in a sort of angry pity, "Why didn't you tell me? Oh, _poor_ father!" "You may well say, 'poor father.' It was for you I suffered most, for you I was afraid. A man alone can always manage to subsist in some fashion, but a man with a helpless female dependent on him--! Thank heaven," he said earnestly, "you can never know what it is to be a father! I thought constantly, 'What a home to bring a young lady into! What a situation for my child!' I may confess that I prayed--no gentleman need be ashamed to pray when he is in distress. And then like light in darkness the answer came to me. At whatever cost to myself, whatever sacrifice, I must provide comfort for Joan, a home suitable for the reception of a young gentlewoman. There was nothing left to offer except--myself. Therefore--" His face shone with a noble sadness, and he waited for the generosity of his sacrifice to sink in. "You mean," said Joan slowly, "that it was for my sake you married Mrs. Calloway!"